Lonely This Christmas
by Fire Bear1
Summary: Arthur's Christmas morning isn't as magical and happy as other people's...


_**I know it looks like I didn't post anything for a while but that's cause they were MA rated stories and I decided just to post them on AO3. So if you want to read them, there's a link to my AO3 on my profile.  
**_

 _ **This is inspired by Elvis Presley's Lonely This Christmas.**_

* * *

When Arthur woke that morning, he found that it had snowed overnight and a thick blanket of the stuff covered the entirety of his front garden. The children from next door had evidently already been up for hours and were already outside, playing in the snow. Little pompoms atop their hats wobbled as they ran to and fro, throwing snowballs. Their mother watched them, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug.

He watched them for a while before realising one of them might see him at the window. Tugging his dressing gown tighter around him, he shuffled away, letting the curtain swing back into place. There was no need for him to be wearing the thick, fluffy, green dressing-grown or the too-large, comfortable slippers: the house was always kept at room temperature. The answer to why was saddening and his heart ache: he always imagined that someone was hugging him. Wrapping his arms around himself, he ignored the pain and let himself be comforted as he made his way to the bedroom door.

The upper hallway was dimly lit due to the lack of windows and Arthur refused to turn on the lights. Instead, light escaped from the open bedroom door or came up from the foyer. Silently, he passed by the closed doors, not sparing them a glance, never entering them. Small tables with pictures and empty vases cluttered the corridor. Some of the ornaments had fallen over and, in Arthur's neglect, he had no desire to pick them up. At the top of the stairs he took a deep breath before he made his way down.

As he did, it was as though he had been transported to another world. Red, green and gold tinsel was draped from the ceiling and twisted around the bannister. Paper snowflakes hung from above and fake frost had been smeared around the edges of the windows. Moving into the large living room, there were two stockings attached to the mantelpiece, the fireplace below empty and cold, as usual. A large tree stood in the corner of the room, adorned with silver and gold baubles and little red fairy lights. On top was a star, its shine faded with its use over the years. Below the fake pine was a single wrapped box.

Arthur settled onto the couch, staring miserably at the extra stocking and the lonely Christmas tree. He didn't know why he bothered to put anything up – he was the only one who was going to see them, after all. His lip trembled and he bit it in an attempt to keep from crying. It was Christmas Day, for goodness' sake: he should be thinking of happy things. But, the last time he had been happy...

Involuntarily, Arthur's gaze was drawn to the picture on the mantelpiece, the one that was infinitely precious to him and the only thing to help keep his sanity after all this time on his own. It showed him laughing beside the most beautiful, amazing, heroic man in the world. His blond hair shone, his blue eyes sparkled as he looked upon Arthur with a fond smile, patiently waiting for Arthur to calm down. Kiku had taken it without their knowledge a few days before _that_ happened.

It was the only thing to remind him of what happiness was.

To distract him from his train of thoughts, he wrenched his gaze away and stumbled to his feet. He made his way over to the present and lifted it, carrying it back to the couch. It was wrapped with red and green paper and a golden bow – just the same as it had been for two years. He knew exactly what was in it; it was the same every time. Standard, really.

Regardless, he pulled on the bow till it fell away. He ripped through the paper to reveal the plain white box. Taking off the lid, he set it aside and peered in. There, he could see a new pair of dark green socks, a box of chocolates, a card and a holobook. Not getting his hopes up, he picked it up and turned it on. As he suspected, it was another pro-Government book, the emblem spinning slowly. Sighing, Arthur turned it off and threw it aside.

There was nothing else to do today. Well, there was one thing... However, Arthur wanted to put it off till later. Much later. But, with another glance at Alfred's face, he couldn't resist. Uncaring as to whether he would make himself upset or not, he sat straight, took a deep breath. "Telly: on. Recorder: on."

Patiently, he waited as the holographic television did as it was told and grew in size till it was in its usual curved wide-screen. Instead of it tuning in to the Government-approved TV channel as it usually did upon booting up, the screen showed little boxes, most of them blank. One of them, the most viewed, was brighter than the rest. Arthur reached out and mimed tapping the box. It grew larger and began to play.

"Merry Christmas!" Alfred exclaimed, throwing his arms wide and grinning. The Santa hat on his head made him look festive, as did the string of tinsel around his neck. The sight of him so happy tore at Arthur's heart. The recording paid little heed to Arthur's distress, of course, and continued. "So, I _know_ you were looking forward to spending Christmas with me and I am so, _so_ sorry that I've had to go back home. I know you'll say it's not my fault – can't help when my mum gets ill and stuff. But, yeah, so... I thought if I did this, it'd be like I was still here.

"But that's not all!" Alfred cried, waving his hands and standing up. The camera panned out to show a full view of Alfred's outfit, a silly elf costume. Grabbing his hat, he pulled it on, firmly tugging it over his ears so the pointed ones on the outside would be in position. "I'm gonna be Santa's little helper so... I'm recording this before I leave ya. And look what I've done for you!" He gestured at the decorations, set up exactly as they looked now. "Your place was looking a bit shabby in the Christmas department. But I'm not gonna leave it at that!"

Music started and Alfred counted himself in, putting his fingers down as he nodded his head in time to the beat. Then he began, warbling out a decent rendition of All I Want For Christmas. At the time he'd first watched it, Arthur had blushed such a deep red that it took him a few minutes to summon the wherewithal to call Alfred and thank him. In later years, it had made him groan as Alfred forced him to watch it yet again. Now it only had him in tears, openly sobbing into his hands.

When it finished, Arthur could barely watch Alfred blow him a kiss, wink at him and wish him a Merry Christmas once more. The screen went black and Arthur took a deep shuddering breath: the TV wouldn't respond to his shaking voice, he had found. In control once more, he opened his mouth to speak – only for the recording to continue with something he had never seen before. Actually, it didn't even look as though Alfred was standing in his house. Frowning, Arthur stared at the vision of Alfred, wearing all black with a black hat covering most of his hair. All except that stubborn lock which stuck up. Alfred was also frowning, staring down at a huge computer keyboard. The room beyond was in shadows and Arthur couldn't work out where he was.

"All right, Alfred," came Kiku's voice. Arthur blinked at that. What was going on? Alfred looked up at Kiku's voice and stared right at Arthur who could merely sit still and wait.

"It's ready?" asked Alfred, rather hurriedly and breathlessly.

"Yeah. Please hurry – we can only do this for so long."

"I know," Alfred replied, looking past the camera. Then he looked out from the screen, right at Arthur again. "Hey, Artie. Sorry if I'm spoiling Christmas Day for ya. But I had ta get a message to ya somehow and this is the best way. See, I actually recorded something else that day but I pasted them together with large enough of a gap so you'd turn it off before the next part. It's big enough for me to hack into your recorder from here and paste this in, too." Alfred paused and bit his lip. "God, I wish I could see ya. I love ya, y'know. And I'm sorry it's taken so long. But we're nearly there, Art, nearly there!" Alfred's usual excitement returned, his wide grin lighting up his face.

Arthur's eyes widened. "You mean...?" he breathed, despite knowing Alfred couldn't hear him.

"Yeah! That's right!" Alfred exclaimed happily. "We've nearly got the evidence! We can pretty much _prove_ you didn't murder anyone! Then, when I get home, we can take off. Go anywhere ya want. Maybe we can even go to a whole different planet. I know ya love your garden and all but it'll be a nice fresh start. Ooh! Maybe we can just buy a ship and go travelling through the universe. Whatever ya want, babe.

"I hope you're okay. I know you're alone but hang on, 'kay? How're ya holding up? God, I wish I could see ya. Even... Even if you're wearing... _that_." Alfred lowered his gaze, his hands clenching on the edge of the desk he stood at.

Without thinking, Arthur's hand reached up to touch the collar at his neck. He'd gotten so used to it, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to balance when they took it off. If they took it off... Arthur wasn't deluding himself: he had obviously been framed by someone in the government. Not that he could figure out why, though – he had never met the man he was supposed to have killed and wasn't an activist of any sort. Luckily for Arthur, the prisons were overflowing as usual and he had been put under house arrest. The collar helped keep track of where in the house Arthur was and whether he was close to the forcefield put up around the plot of land he owned. Arthur wouldn't be surprised if there were cameras hidden around the house, continuously watching him...

That was why Alfred had left: he had seen his boyfriend come home one day wearing the collar of a convicted murderer and had been so appalled at how his precious and righteous justice system had acted. Determined to right a wrong, he had left with Kiku, both of them free to go to and from the house – something no-one else did any more. Arthur had been against it. To find out who had framed him would mean going against someone powerful and would involve far too much danger. Alfred had reassured him, kissed him like he would never see him again and hurried out the door before he could change his mind.

Two years ago, Arthur Kirkland had been left entirely alone with only robotic deliverymen for company, slowly losing the will to live.

The collar shocked him and, with a wince, Arthur jerked his hand away. Returning his attention to Alfred, he wondered what else Alfred had to say. The man was looking up again, a strained smile on his face. "I'm so sorry Artie but... hopefully this has brightened your day. I love you. Don't give up. And merry Christmas: I'll be home soon."

Arthur fought back another sob as Alfred gave him a blinding smile and returned his attention to the keyboard. He didn't want him to go. He didn't want him to leave him again. The message had ripped at his heart and he wasn't sure if he would be able to feed himself again today. But... if Alfred was coming home...

"Is that all?" asked Kiku's voice.

"Yeah, that's-" Alfred broke off and, alarmed, Arthur looked up again, eyes wide as the noise of a door being slammed open cut through the recording. "Shit!" Alfred exclaimed as guards with helmets and visors rushed in. "Kiku! Run-"

There was a gunshot. Blood spurted onto the screen as Alfred collapsed to the floor. Someone screamed and it took Arthur a moment to realise it was himself as the camera fell and darkness and blood obscured his view. Where was Alfred? Was he all right?

Of course he wasn't, the rational part of his mind told him. Those guards were the ones that kept watch over government facilities and they never let anyone live if they threatened the peace. Oh, God, Alfred was dead!

He was given no chance to gather himself as the recording cut out and another began playing in its stead, the younger Alfred grinning nervously at Arthur and still in his elf suit. "Hey," said the recording. "So, I know you've watched the first part a few times but now I actually want you to see this. No! Don't look at Future Me just now – he's getting into position. If you're seeing this it means I've saved up enough to do this. See, when I met ya, I fell in love instantly – even if you yelled at me for making me drop your books. I feel like I've been in love with you for forever and so, this Christmas, I want to ask you..."

Alfred took a deep breath, his smile turning soft and fond, just like in the picture on the mantel.

"Will you marry me, Arthur Kirkland, you amazing man?"

That was when the recording completely finished. Arthur stared at the black screen until the TV shut itself off, shrinking away and out of sight so that Arthur was staring at the wall. Alfred had wanted to marry him three years ago? Alfred was dead? What was he supposed to do? The only reason he had kept on feeding himself and keeping the place clean and all these decorations were purely so he could see Alfred again.

Shouts and laughter from outside caught his attention and, somehow, he made a decision. Slowly, jerkily, he stood and moved to the front door. Opening it (no need to lock it – who would bother to attempt to rob a prison?), Arthur moved out. The cold hit him and, normally, that would be enough to bring him to his senses. But he was already numb inside and the weather couldn't make him halt as he walked down the stairs of the porch.

As he made his way across the snow-covered lawn, there were screams from the children. He didn't go outside much and it must have shocked him to have the murderer outside – and on Christmas Day, too. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the mother sprint over and gather the children to her. He ignored her frightened look as he continued on to the edge of his property. There was an antique letterbox at the end of the path, more for decoration than anything. Arthur hadn't gone there for two years since the forcefield cut him off from it. Now he aimed for it.

When he reached his destination, he stopped. Touching the forcefield would fry him to a crisp. Everyone knew that. And so he lifted his hand, his fingers curled slightly. He was going to do this, he told himself and took a final breath. Behind him, the mother was screaming at him now, begging him to stop. Arthur tuned her out as his fingers drew closer...


End file.
